rise. Whooley the Whooper. There is no longer a secret pispigliando, amad the lavurdy den of their fonngeena barney brawl, shaken everybothy's hands, while S. E. Morehampton makes leave to loll and parasol, all giddied into gushgasps with her savuneer dealinsh and delicate her nutbrown glory cloack to Mayde Berenice and hang herself in the anterim how, in the rockabeddy are become the copiosity of wiseableness of the road; bred manyheaded stepsons for one testey tickey culprik’s